Parting Gift
by LickSkillet
Summary: Sasuke can't leave Naruto without clearing up some things, and leaving him something to remember him by. Sasuke/Naruto


**Author's Note:** Here's a little treat to hold you over until I update _"Full Moons"_. I'm currently waiting to get the current chapter back from Beta, but I might change it after that. AN UPDATE IT COMING! It's just not up to me _when_ it comes. Also, in case anyone doesn't know, you can find this tidbit and more on my Dreamwidth account under the same name as my LJ (lickskillet(dot)dreamwidth(dot)org). I tend to update little things there more often, so check it out!

This little thing does kind-of have spoilers for Sasuke leaving Konoha, but mostly it's him being a whiny emo dick. And then sticking said emo dick- well. Enjoy.

xXx

xXx

* * *

It isn't easy, swallowing my pride like this. Not five hours ago, I was ready to rip my chidori through his eager face, making matching scars across that skin. I'd wanted wipe that constant smile off his face, take the happy gleam from his eyes, see his entrails spilled across that rooftop.

Even now, I can feel that anger, that _jealousy_ (because that's all it is, really, green-faced envy) racing under my skin, my heart tight and my stomach alive with knots. _He_ blew straight through that water tower, easy as ever, and when did he learn that damned jutsu, anyway, when did he get so _good?_

But that isn't what I want to be thinking now. I'm not angry _now_, and that's all that matters. Tonight… tonight I'm going to change everything. I don't deserve what I want, and I rarely get it. But tonight, tonight I will.

xXx

* * *

xXx

I know the way to his house easily, even in the dark. It's a scary thought that I know this much about him. It wasn't a conscious effort on my part, really. He's just like some sort of parasitic worm, or a kunai lodged between my shoulder blades, just where I can't reach. I never gave him permission, I never stopped hating him; everything just built.

The moon is full, bright and silver. There's a strong wind whipping up, leaving a cold bite to the air that conjures up images of snow, even though the days are sunny and warm. My stomach, against my will, is tight with nervous tension. I'm not one for nervousness, except in the heat of battle, and I try my hardest to push it away, but there's no reasoning with my emotions. I can't lie; this will be one of the most terrifying nights of my life. Tonight, everything changes.

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* * *

xXx

I can't tell you what time it is when I knock, quickly, three hard raps against the wood of his door. He isn't wearing that embarrassing hat, thank _God_, he's still in that orange training gear, the one that makes his eyes—

"…" His mouth opens, and closes, but there's no sound, and those eyes are dark and angry, like a wounded animal facing a past attacker. It stings a little, in the way it does when you _know_ what you've done. Like a mind in denial, I've downplayed it all. But he feels so strongly, all the time.

"You look like some sort of loser, your mouth hanging open like that." I say, and maybe it's too normal, maybe it's too harsh against the pink skin of freshly healed scars. At once, his jaw clenches shut, and there's that fire in his eyes that I _lo-_

"You're one to talk!" His voice, always so harsh, is low and soft, but still biting in a way that's truly _him_. "You just go and sulk, then show up here in the middle of the night? You're so weird. Teme."

I know, then, that he's forgiven me. It's a little odd, really. I was expecting him to yell and scream and kick as I dragged him, but he's… he's changed. We've changed. And although I don't like it, it's as if he accepts how I feel about him, the rivalry we have. I don't want it to be that way; I don't want him to think that _I _think of _him _that way.

"I didn't…"

He's onto me, then. In an instant, his face has changed, and _how do I know that?_ he's not guarded or angry anymore. He's worried. This isn't going right; I didn't want it like this.

"Can I come in?" I ask, and I never ask him for _anything_, except _stay out of the way, dobe_. He steps aside, inviting me in with the angle of his body, his eyes still focused intently on me in a way that makes me shiver and my stomach tie into knots.

* * *

"Alright, Sasuke, what's-"

I've never been good at spontaneity. He's the one for that; split-second changes to attack plans in the middle of a fight. It isn't that I can't adapt to the playing field. I just don't do well without a well-thought out plan first. Coming over here this night, I haven't got a plan, and I know that it might lead to complete and utter failure. But I'm taking a cue from him, now.

There's a loud, startling sound that my palms make against the wood of the door, the undertone of his breathing as it spikes in fear, his body tensing. His eyes are wide and his pupils and so tiny, pinpricks of black against vivid, heart-breaking blue.

He doesn't try to get away, and that's a sign to continue. His headband isn't wrapped tight around his forehead, and I imagine how it would be to see myself in its reflection, getting closer and closer. I can see those whisker-marks on his face; small scrapes on his cheeks from our earlier fight. There's still the crisp smell of metal on him, tangy and sour on my tongue.

He opens his mouth, again, but it's as if he doesn't care if words come out, he's just letting loose his jaw, his eyes locked warily on mine.

xXx

* * *

xXx

It isn't the end of the world, as I know it. There are no fireworks, there is no chorus of heavenly spirits, or a feeling like the floor is going to fall out from under my feet.

That doesn't make it any less _amazing_.

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* * *

xXx

He feels just like I thought he would, lips chapped from a mouth he can't stop running off. I keep my eyes open for a handful of seconds, watching until, _finally_, he closes his and sags against the door. I follow the infinitesimal motion with my body, so finely tuned to his in this high-tension-wire moment. He lets me follow him, and that's something, something I can never forget. He _lets _me. Because, as it always was, and always shall be, he's stronger than me. I don't want to see it, but it's true.

"Dobe," I say, against his mouth, sharing the same air, exhale-inhale from one set of lungs to another. His eyes are still closed, his cheeks bright red, mouth hanging open in an expression of what could be pain or ecstasy. He opens his eyes, and they rock me to my core, and _I never knew it ran that deep _I shiver, up my spine like ghost fingers.

"Sasuke," he says, not a whisper, but a voice with no power for sustained volume. It's so throaty and hoarse, but so quiet, and I'm fighting another shiver away.

We breathe together, intermittently, when we have to. I can't hold my hands up any longer, and they fall to his shoulders, feeling the baby-curls of hair growing long against the nape of his neck. His hands come up and fist tight on my sleeve ends, hanging like dead weight. I can't remember being cold, can only feel the heat emanating between our bodies. I imagine even our chakra coming together in an invisible cloud. I hope I take some of his with me.

I didn't plan for this. We make it from his kitchen to his bedroom, and then his bed. It's more from a mutual dislike of standing up anymore, and he doesn't have a futon.

I can't tell you how long it's been when he pulls back and zips down his jumpsuit to his abdomen, shrugging out of the arms. Underneath he's wearing a white sleeveless top, a necklace glinting in the moonlight from where it lies against his collarbone. His shoulders are broader without the padding from his jumpsuit, his chest fuller and I can see the sleek lines of his muscles. All at once, he's a physical thing, and I've never thought of him _like this_ before. It's something fiery and powerful crescendo-ing in my gut, and I'm frozen in fear of it.

"Sasuke?" his voice is different than I've ever heard it, something just for me, and he's looking almost timidly up at me, under a fringe of wild blond mane, his face red and his lips slick. He presses his lips against my jaw, the side of my mouth, and I come alive under his touch, remembering my purpose.

"Usuratonkachi," I say, my voice heavy with affection as I twist my face to find his mouth with my own, muffling his indignant huff with my tongue. He goes limp beneath me, and it's strange, because I've never been in his room before, and this will be… I can smell him, everywhere, heady and thick from the sheets we're on, and the scent of ramen is wafting from discarded bowls lying strewn across his floor. I'm enveloped in him. I'm unable to process everything at once, and it's difficult to breathe, not with him taking every breath from me with every twist of his body.

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* * *

xXx

And, maybe, I'm just as selfish as everyone thinks I am. Because I want him so much _now_ that I don't care, even, knowing what I'm going to do to him later.

I don't deserve what I want, and I rarely get it.

But tonight, tonight I do.

Tonight, everything changes.

xXx

* * *

xXx

The moon is still high in the sky when I slide from under the covers; pull on my clothing in the simple silver light. He's asleep, cheek pressed into the pillow, facing where I had lain, arm splayed out towards where I had been.

He might not understand, but I needed this. He deserved it. I've felt so strongly for so long, and he's been oblivious. I couldn't leave him with any doubt. Because, always, he's been stronger than me and, if anything should happen, I want him to have a reason to come for me. I want him to _want to_ come for me. I'm a selfish bastard, and I rarely get what I want.

Tonight, I did.


End file.
